Come Around Sundown
by Acharya
Summary: Jedi Maze Xzen wants to live by the Jedi Code and purge himself of all emotion in order to do so. But when he takes on Doc, a man driven by emotion and good intentions, as part of his crew complications arise.  JK/Doc
1. Chapter 1

Come Around Sundown

Author: Rochelle B aka Achraya

Rating: Tish. Maybe M, but only on sites that allow such things.

Characters: Male!Jedi Guardian, Kira Carson, Doc, Male!Jedi Sage, and mentions of others.

Timeline/Planet: Tython, after Act I.

Warnings: Slash aka homosexuality. As always I will not judge those who back the hell out and choose not to read. After all, judging is wrong.

Notes: This gonna be Male!JK/Doc. I am in no way shape or form implying that I think Doc is gay, so you know. Relax. I'm simply exploring, in the context of this story, the possibility that Doc could have a personality where the gender of his partner is less important that who that person is. Doc will still be very much the mildly sleazy skirt chaser we all know and love.

Summary: Jedi Maze Xzen wants to live by the Jedi Code and purge himself of all emotion in order to do so. But when he takes on Doc, a man driven by emotion, as part of his crew complications arise.

Chapter One

I Won't Ever (Be your cornerstone)

_His hands were covered in blood. He stood in the refresher, scrubbing frantically at the his hands: the soap was streaked with red and the sink was stained with it. Water ran over but, no matter how hard he tried, his hands were still drenched in blood. His eyes burned with tears and bile rose in his throat, but still he rubbed frantically at his skin. It hurt now and he could feel the skin beginning to crack with the force of his actions, but he couldn't stop. He had to clean himself, had to get rid of the taint on him._

_He sobbed, legs giving out and slumping forward. He held his hands up to his face, taking in the peeled away skin and exposed muscle but feeling no pain. He needed to get back to this feet, to rid himself of the taint that was on him, but his body refused to move. It was like he was trapped in it, trapped in the blood streaked shell. _

_One hand came to rest on the floor, palm down, and he swallowed thickly as he watched the other hand grab onto one of the ribbons of destroyed skin. He pulled, slowly stripping the flap away then dropping it to the side. He grabbed another bit of skin, unable to stop himself. If he couldn't clean it, he'd have to get rid of the skin at all costs. He couldn't live like this anymore, couldn't-_

Maze jerked awake, breath caught in his throat and sweat plastering his sheets to his skin. He looked around, eyesight hazy with tears that even in sleep he refused to shed, before finally focusing on the two faces hovering above him.

Kira Carson, his padawan, was staring down at him, face a mask of worry. She had a hand on his shoulder, probably in order to shake him from his nightmare. Tymar Chraya, long time friend and fellow Jedi, was at the end of his bed, frowning slightly.

Maze hauled himself into a sitting position, sending Kira scrambling back out of his personal space. His sheets pooled around his waist, exposing his bare chest. The redheaded woman squeaked, face going red, and turned to face the wall. He laughed, amused in spite of himself.

"M-Master! I'm...Jedi Chraya wanted to see you but you weren't answering your holo and I was worried and-"

"Kira. It's fine." He held up a hand, not that she could see it, as if to physically stop the frantic flow of words. His padawan let out a pained breathe then nodded, still refusing to turn back around. "Why don't you see what's going on with the Council?"

She nodded and, with a hasty goodbye to Tymar, ran from the room. Tymar watched her go, feeling a flicker of amusement at her antics in spite of himself.

"Your padawan has a crush on you." Tymar noted, dark purple eyes bright with laughter.

Maze ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, cringing at the wet sweaty mess. At the moment the idea that someone could have a crush on him was absurd. He was average looking, in his opinion. Human, pale skin, dark brown hair that hit just below his ears, and pale gray eyes. He had scars over his left eye, three long raised lines that people assumed were from a tussle with an animal, and along the left side of his neck. He'd been self-conscious about the marks growing up but now he barely remembered they were there.

"It's hero worship more than anything, really. I've been trying to dissuade her, but she feels like I'm the only reason the council is even considering allowing her to be a Jedi."

It wasn't true of course. Kira had fought back the Emperor when he'd taken over her body; he'd helped but he was all too aware that if she hadn't been strong enough to fight as well that he would have had to kill her. The fight haunted him, as did the knowledge of how close to losing her he'd come, and the last thing he wanted was for Kira to admire him for it.

Maze also didn't want the girl to downplay her own strength or become too reliant on him. Kira had the potential for great things with or without him around.

Tymar's lips pulled up slightly. "She's cute."

Maze glared at his friend. "She's too young for you Ty."

"But just right for you?" The Mirialan waggled his eyebrows in a very un-Jedi like manner. Maze's glare just intensified, even as he tried to push away the protective feelings surging to the forefront.

Kira was like the little sisters he'd left behind; he loved her like family even though he shouldn't have and wanted to keep her from all harm, which very much included Tymar. When they'd been younger, before the Mirialan had intensified his studies in the healing arts, he'd been known among the other potentials as a heart breaker. He'd been able to draw in those around him with just a look and sway people to his side easily; a natural borne diplomat. Worse that all that Tymar had been prideful and dangerous, assured of his power and far ahead of those around him in his studies, and often just shy of leading others away from their teachings with his desires.

Physical relationships among potentials were strictly frowned upon and more than once Maze had found himself pulled into Tymar's misdeeds, running interference with the masters or soothing a distraught conquest. He'd wanted to stay out of, to focus on his own studies, but Tymar had always been hard to say no to.

Girls had mooned over him, risking their futures to be with him, and Maze had been no better.

They'd gotten older, and maybe a little smarter, and Tymar's father passed away. Master Chraya had been on a diplomatic mission with an independent colony that was also being sought by the Empire, and his transport ship had 'mysteriously' been destroyed. After that Tymar had changed, becoming withdrawn and quiet. His studies had become all that mattered to him and the 'bad boy' Mirialan become not just a prize student but the picture of the Jedi Code. No passion, no emotion, no ignorance; only peace.

Maze had followed Tymar's lead as best he could. He wasn't as naturally smart as his friend and his father had been a moisture farmer, not a Jedi Master, so he hadn't been brought up learning how to use his power; it had been harder for him to excel but he'd managed it. They'd both come to Tython eventually and then struck out from the planet, both working in their own ways against the Sith and the Empire.

They kept in contact, speaking often through holocalls, and Maze had begun to notice a shift in his friend. The stoic man was beginning to fall away and morph back into the brash, slightly smug, teenager Maze had grown up beside.

Maze could relate, in his own way. The world outside of the temple and the things they had to do were...unexpected. He'd always known that a Jedi had to be ready to fight and even kill in the defense of others and that sometimes sacrifice would be needed, but to actually hold life or death in his hands...he couldn't say he wasn't changed.

He'd had nightmares since the first night on Tython. The images of flesh raiders, brutal savage creatures, dying under his blade tormented him. He'd woken up screaming, disturbing those in the dorm with him, and been escorted to see a healer before meditating the rest of the night away. Meditation helped, some, and so he did it daily to try and keep his monsters at bay, but things were only getting worse.

Gang members, Sand People, soldiers, and even pirates fell before him and it all chipped away at him. He knew that there was no other way, that some people simply wouldn't be reasoned with, but at the same time he'd never thought his future as a Jedi would be so...blood soaked or unclear.

Even Kira, his padawan, threatened everything he'd thought he'd known. She was an Imperial, albeit one who'd fled from the Emperor's grasp, and a Child of the aforementioned Emperor. All her life he'd been lurking inside, waiting, and it was terrifying to think she'd been on the ship, sleeping just two rooms away.

He wanted to believe in her, and had told the Council that he did, but inside he was confused and tortured. Was she truly free, her own woman, and able to truly embrace what it was to be Jedi or was she doomed to fall prey to the life she'd been born into?

All of that was without mentioning her apparent 'crush'. He loved Kira, truly, but not in that manner. He was doubtful he'd ever think of a woman in that manner, let alone one who was supposed to be his student, but he wasn't sure how to tell her that. She'd been through a lot, too much for one so young, and he didn't want to hurt her or cause a divide between them.

"You really aren't interested?" Tymar asked, once Maze had showered and dressed. The human blinked, taking a moment to realize his friend was picking up the earlier conversation where it had left off, and shook his head slowly. "Probably for the best. Sleeping with your padawan is probably not a good idea."

There were instances of just that having happened in Jedi history. Some ended well, others had gone badly. Relationships were frowned upon but some Jedi married and had children (Tymar's father being a perfect example). That was of course with permission from the Council, of course.

"I have no use for relationships Tymar, you know that." Maze smiled at the Mirialan mildly. "Not all of us seek to leave a trail of wanting women behind us."

Tymar arched an eyebrow loftily. "I have never, ever, left a woman wanting." He cracked a smile as Maze rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "And I'm coming to think there may be some...merit in relationships. Random sex in every spaceport, no, but love and meaningful relationships. I don't think I could have come this far without Master Par in my corner, or my friends at my side, or my sisters being there for me."

Relationships, even meaningful ones, weren't the sort of thing Maze wanted to focus on. He had enough troubles as it was without adding in the complications of emotions or family thrown into the mix. He just wanted to be a good Jedi, to uphold the teachings he'd learned and helped those that needed help, and yet the longer he was away from the temple and dealing with 'Real Life' the further away he felt from who he wanted to be.

Besides, having friends was complicated enough, as Kira and Tymar constantly reminded him.

"How are your sisters?"

Maze had crossed paths with the Chraya sisters, Leta and Tial, a few times in the past two months. Leta was a Republic solider, the leader of a special forces unit, and Maze had liked her right away. She was calm and thoughtful, but not afraid to act and seemed to value the rules and her mission above all else. She made tough choices all of the time, but seemed unaffected by them; Maze envied that. Tial, on the other hand, was basically Tymar in a female body. A redhead with dark purple eyes that saw too much and a mouth that said entirely too much as well; she was ruled by whims and emotion and seemed to take delight in the fact she had looks that literally made men hurt themselves to get a second look.

"Tial is lying low for the time being. Leta is hard at work." Tymar was perched on the end of his bed, but began to pace the floor at the mention of his younger sisters. Maze knew how much he worried about them, and felt a little guilty about using them to change the conversation. "Tia wanted to meet up soon. You should come along, she likes you."

Maze refrained from expressing his first thought, which was that Tial seemed like she liked most men she met, and instead sat down to begin to pull his boots on. His room was a small sparse one, with a bed, a desk and chair, and a set of drawers. There was a small door that led to the refresher and another that led to the hallway. It wasn't much, but it was better than a dorm room with 21 other students.

"Did you visit your family when you were on Tatooine?"

"I refuse to dignify that with a response." Maze muttered, just managing to keep his tone even as his fingers stumbled over the straps on his boots. His family...Tymar, Kira, and T-7 were his family.

When he finished with his boots he looked up and found Tymar staring at him, eyes glowing gold. He scowled, throwing up barriers around his mind with brutal quickness, knowing that the sudden cutoff would pain his friend. It was something they'd all learned in case of capture by Sith; they had to be able to withstand not only torture but the mind tricks and invasions of Inquisitors. His shields were a little stronger than most could put together, but that was because Tymar (his usual partner when it came to practicing what they learned) was better at reading people than most.

Tymar winced, the barriers probably colliding with his mind rather rudely, then smiled it off. "Come spar with me. Might help you shake off that nightmare."

"I usually mediate." Maze said, tone wary. He and Tymar had sparred before, and it always ended up with someone (or both) needing to be patched up. Tymar was older and taller, with the advantage of natural Mirialan agility and reflexes on his side, but he wasn't generally one for hand to hand combat. Maze was bigger, more heavily muscled, and had the advantage of growing up on Tatooine and pure human stubbornness in his corner.

"Then change will be good for you."

Or change would ruin him. He didn't want to release his feelings about his dream with violence, even controlled mock violence. Who was to say how it would affect him or what it could make him do. What if he lost control? Hurting others came to him so easily it worried him; did he really want to fight when it wasn't necessary?

"How about this? You win, I'll won't say another word about anything. I win, and we get a drink and talk about what's wrong."

"I don't drink."

Tymar sighed, the look on his face implying that he was trying very hard to be patient. He crossed the distance between them and crouched in front of Maze, ignoring the way the human's eye went wide and nervous. A green hand, sporting a double triangle tattoo between the first and second knuckle of the middle finger, touched his shoulder and Ty's eyes softened in a way that made Maze's heart skip a beat.

Sometimes he was sure Tymar saw right through him, and had seen through him since the moment they'd meet 12 years ago. That he knew that Maze had spent many a night in the dorm's refresher, under a cold spray trying to think of anything except Tymar and that he often failed and had to resort to 'handling' the problem to sleep. That Maze had allowed Tymar to lead him around for years, just happy to be close to him even though it drove him insane to see him with those girls.

"Mazearil." Maze nodded halting, indicating that he was listening. "You don't drink. You don't eat meat because you don't like the idea of eating potentially sentient beings. You read history books that weight more than small children to 'unwind' and you've worked out every other day, in the same damn routine, for the past 7 years. You've never had sex, or even held hands with someone who wasn't me. I'm fairly sure you don't even masturbate."

On the other hand maybe Ty was in fact totally in the dark. "I'm not sure this is totally appropriate-"

"You're going to go insane if you don't allow yourself a little pleasure every now and then. You adhere so rigidly to the rules that I'm afraid you're going to break."

Tymar's dark purple eyes were full of worry and sincerity and Maze could feel himself start to crack. Sithspit, but he'd never been able to deny his friend anything. Tymar was his one weakness, the thing that kept him from achieving the purge of emotions he longed for.

That's what he told himself anyway.

"Fine. Lets go."

He'd never be the man he wanted at this rate.

0000000000

Tymar Chraya: Tie-Mar Cray-Ah

Tial: Tee-All

Mazearil Xzen: May-Za-Real Ex-Zen

Maze: Is pronounced like Maze.


	2. Chapter 2

Come Around Sundown

Author: Rochelle B aka Achraya

Rating: Tish. Maybe M, but only on sites that allow such things.

Characters: Male!Jedi Guardian, Kira Carson, Doc, Male!Jedi Sage, and mentions of others.

Timeline/Planet: Tython, after Act I.

Warnings: Slash aka homosexuality. As always I will not judge those who back the hell out and choose not to read. After all, judging is wrong.

Notes: A whole lot of babble at the end.

Summary: Jedi Maze Xzen wants to live by the Jedi Code and purge himself of all emotion in order to do so. But when he takes on Doc, a man driven by emotion, as part of his crew complications arise.

Chapter Two

Halfway Gone

Tatooine, 16 years Ago

Mazearil stretched sleepily then blinked up at the sky. He could tell from the position of the sun that it was getting late, he'd been due home hours ago but he wanted nothing more than to just stay in the hole he'd found out in the sand. He was pretty sure it was a Sand People trap; he'd heard stories about how the Sand People hid in them for days on end, waiting for unsuspecting settlers to come by, then ambushed them.

He'd stumbled across this one a few months ago. It was right next to a rocky outcropping, allowing the formation to provide natural shade, and went down about five feet and had wooden planks affixed to the side, a makeshift ladder. It had been covered with a sand covered tarp and he wouldn't have noticed it at all except he'd fallen, rather unceremoniously, down the shaft.

He liked it here; it was peaceful and cool compared to the surface. He didn't have to worry about his family and their problems when he was out here.

He scrambled up the ladder and, once he'd brushed the sand from his clothing, pulled the tarp into place. He looked it over, making sure no one would be able to see it without stumbling over it, then began the trek back to his home. He lived on a farm with his parents and 5 siblings, of which he was the third oldest and one of two boys. They'd come here shortly before Maze had been born, his parents thinking there was a fortune in moisture farming.

He didn't know much about the business or things like finances, but he knew that all his parents did was fight about credits. He didn't remember a time when his home hadn't been full of anger, shouting, and violence but he did know enough to know it wasn't normal. He had friends who lived on some of the other plots of land nearby and their parents weren't like that.

His older brother, Ancil, said it was because of the ale and his older sister, Lilyann, said it was because of the men who trailed in and out of their house during the day while their father was in town. To Maze it just seemed like his parents didn't like each other very much, but no one paid much attention to a seven-year-old's view on things.

He knew something was wrong before he walked through the front door; a strange weight settled into the pit of his stomach and something inside of him screamed for him to turn around and go back to his hole. He couldn't do that, of course. He pushed open the door, mind falling into blankness at the sight before him.

His mother was sitting in a chair, face buried in her hands and shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. His father was sitting in the chair across the table from her, stone faced. Lilyann was at their mother's feet, head in the older woman's lap, and Ancil was no where to be seen. The younger siblings were probably getting ready for bed, if not in bed already.

There was a man he didn't know also at the table, clad in dark brown robes and looking around the small home with obvious discomfort. His eyes were covered with darkly tinted glasses, which hide them from the sight of others. He rose to his feet when Maze entered.

"Momma?"

Lilyann flew at him, scooping him up and crushing the air from his lungs. He made a pained croaking noise and pushed at her, trying to dislodge himself, but she was twice his age and much larger than he was. "Maze! Where have you been?"

He opened his mouth but all he could do was groan. His father stirred, frowning dangerously. "Lily, put that boy down."

Lilyann did as told, tears beginning to run down her face with increased strength. Maze reached for her, suddenly not bothered by how hard she'd been gripping him. He hated to see her upset. He put his hand in her larger one then squeezed, offering her a smile.

"Oh Maze." She touched the top of his head then fell to her knees, sobbing loudly. "Daddy is sending you away!"

He drew back, confused. "What?"

"Hello, Mazearil. I'm Nat'al, a Jedi." The man in the robes rounded the table and come to stand before him, face giving away nothing. "Your father called to tell us about your...gifts with the force."

Maze just stared, eyes wide, then craned his neck to look at his father. "The force?"

The man smiled not unkindly. "You have much to learn, but I can see that you had lots of potential. Your father contacted us after your...accident and now I'm here to take you somewhere to learn how to control the gifts you have so that you can help people."

Maze knew what 'accident' the man was talking about. He'd been in town with his brother and had gotten separated somehow. He'd walked, feeling small and scared and alone in the crowd, and eventually wandered outside of the town's borders. He hadn't gotten far when a pack of whomp rats had gotten on his scent and come running across the desert for him. He remembered screaming and trying to run back the way he'd come only to be knocked from his feet by the smaller animals.

After that it got hazy in his mind, but the next thing he fully recalled was being in his brother's arms as he ran to the med center, crying. They were both covered in blood, Maze's blood, and he'd been in pain worse than he'd ever been. His neck was torn open, a long jagged wound wound that ran from his neck to his shoulder, and he had three deep lines running over his left eye. The doctor had been sure he would lose the eye but in the end he hadn't. Not only that but he'd healed fast and cleanly, with no sign of infection at all.

The 'Rats, according to his brother, had been utterly pulped. They looked like something heavy had been dropped on them from high up, but there had been nothing around. Maze remembered the doctors talking to his parents, whispering about academies and the 'Force' but he'd just put it out of his mind, happy that he hadn't been ripped apart like the boys in the stories his mother always told him.

"Hah." His mother's voice was husky and dark. She looked up, eyes bloodshot, and sneered nastily. "Your father called them because he thinks we can't afford to have you all anymore. He's sending your brother off to join the Military and hiring your sister out to a cantina. He doesn't care what happens to you, as long as he doesn't have to feed you anymore!"

Her voice got louder with each word until it was a loud shriek. For a moment she radiated rage and heart break, seeming to grow larger in her anger, and in the next moment she had crumpled like an injured animal, crying brokenly. His father twitched and Maze could see that he'd had enough. He had lashed out and smacked Maze's mother, hard enough to topple her from the chair, before the boy could even open his mouth in protest.

Nat'al sighed deeply then inclined his head towards Lilyann. "Why don't you take your brother outside so I can talk to your parents. I'll be just a moment."

Lilyann did as asked, dragging Maze along. Once outside they sat together in the sand, his sister petting his hair slowly. They'd done this before, when their parents fought, but usually the air was full of muffled screaming and the sounds of things being thrown. This time it was quiet, quieter than it'd ever been.

A few minutes past and Nat'al emerged, a satisfied look on his face. He made a motion to the two of them that had them both scrambling over.

"I need to take Maze now Lilyann, and I think it's time you went to bed."

His sister's dark blue eyes brimmed with tears. "Are you going to bring him back? Can I visit?"

The Jedi touched the top of Lilyann's head, brushing her curly brown hair back. "I won't lie to you Lily, I can tell you're a very smart girl. It will be a long time before you see Maze again."

0000000000

Tython, Present

Maze ran another hand through his hair then began the process of smoothing it back so he could tie it up. Tymar was bouncing on the other side of the combat arena, dark red hair already pulled back so it wasn't in his face. The Mirialan had shed his shirt and stood only in loose cloth pants, showing off lean muscle and a spattering of raised scar tissue across his chest.

Some of the students had stopped what they were doing to watch them spar and more than a few where looking at Tymar appreciatively. Maze laughed softly, arching an eyebrow at his friend who winked back lasciviously. Tymar was aware of the attention he was getting and, just as he had as a teenager, was enjoying it immensely.

Maze finished tying up his hair then pulled his shirt off as well. He'd already toed off his boots and placed them next to T7, who was clicking and whirring nervously off to the side with Tymar's crew. The Trandoshan was watching them impassively but the doctor who traveled with Tymar was happily chatting up some of the female students, undeterred by how disinterested they appeared to be in him.

Some of the attention moved from Ty to him, but Maze doubted it had the same positive undertone. He was pale and the scars on his neck ran down over his collar bone and shoulder, an ugly mass of knotted flesh. The rats he'd fallen prey to when he was young had taken a few massive bites out of his flesh and if he'd been anyone else he would have probably died straight away.

He knew now that the Force had protected him. It had slowed the loss of blood, sped up his healing, dulled the pain for a time, and helped him kill the animals. He'd come to be able to control his body through the force, to shrug off blows and suppress pain, and in that way he'd become something between a human weapon and a human shield. He'd known right away that the role of a Guardian, protecting his allies, was what he was destined to do and considering his natural talents he'd been right.

As if following his train of thought Tymar called out, smiling. "No defensive stance antics Maze."

"Of course not." Maze stepped into the combat arena, which was the same sandy area he'd fought special droids on a few months ago. "The same goes for you. No healing."

Tymar nodded his agreement. "First to yield, leave the ring, or fall unconscious is the loser?"

The same rules they'd always had. Maze indicated that the understood then, with the practiced ease of former sparring partners, both fell into combat stance, training weapons in hand.

Maze preferred Soresu, the defensive technique, but he'd learned the hard way that it wasn't much good against his friend. He could survive any onslaught, but he lacked offensive power, as everything was channeled into protecting himself. He'd driven himself to learn first the Shien stance and then Jar'kai when Shien had proved to lack the mobility he needed to keep up with the Mirialan. He held two training swords, one hand pitched back with the saber pointed up and the other angled in front of his body. It was an odd feeling after so long with only one lightsaber.

Tymar had opted for a training staff, which wasn't surprising considering Maze's choice to dual wield. Tymar was a student of the Ataru stance, opting not for powerful blows but using his natural speed and agility to fight. Fighting Tymar could be less about striking out as protecting yourself from blows that seemed to come from all angles.

Tymar looked serene, as usual, feet slightly spread. He had his free hand in front of his body, pointed at Maze, while the other held the staff so the back end was angled slightly behind his back. Tymar tilted his head slightly, asking is he was ready, and Maze nodded tightly.

Tymar's eyes became shuttered and then he lunged forward, staff arcing up above his head. Maze was ready and rolled back, watching as his friend brought the staff not straight down as some might expect, but around to the right, swiping at the space Maze had once inhabited. Maze was up and moving, lashing out with powerful strikes with his strong hand. Tymar dodged and parries easily, faster with each movement, just starting to hit his stride. Maze knew he'd need to end this quickly; Tymar only got harder to track as time went on.

Tymar whirled, staff spinning behind his back and changing hands, then slashed downwards diagonally. Maze brought his off hand up, blocking the blow, while lashing out with the other weapon. He heard a soft chuckle and then Tymar was gone, and Maze stumbled, cursing silently.

He'd been sure he'd land that and had overbalanced himself. He tried to turn with his momentum, just managing to defend against another overhead slash. He was driven to one knee, momentarily surprised at the strength the Mirialan had put behind his blow. Maze grunted then cursed again, this time out loud, and let the offhand saber fall to the ground.

He pushed out with his now free hand, using the force to literally propel Tymar away from him. The Sage's serene mask slipped for a moment, shock registering, before he hit the ground. Dust plumed around him, sand disturbed by how hard Tymar had hit the ground, but the Mirialan was on his feet quickly. Not faster than Maze, who lept forward then slashed his saber forward, not seeking to hit his friend but rather hit him with a wave of energy.

Tymar stumbled, shaking his head which was probably ringing now. Maze stayed on the offensive, gripping his weapon with both hands and putting everything he had into a series of punishing strikes. Tymar fended him off but Maze could see how each attempt took more effort and pressed steadily forward, pushing his friend back towards the edge of the ring.

Tymar's eyes were lock on his, pupils blown wide, sweat was starting to mat long red strands to dark green skin, and he was breathing hard with the effort of defending himself. Something in Maze stirred and he knew that when this was over a long cold shower was going to be in order.

"Master?" Kira's voice rang out and Maze turned his head toward it before he could stop himself. He knew instantly he'd made a fatal mistake and he whipped his gaze back to Tymar, but knew it was too late. The Sage blurred, speed boosted by the Force, and was behind him and Maze was tumbling forward, pushed by a shock wave of energy. He hit the ground face first, tasting grass and the metallic tang of blood across his tongue.

Maze groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Why in the Force did Kira have such terrible timing?

"You're out of the ring." Tymar said. His voice wasn't smug but rather tired and, maybe, a tiny bit awed. The Mirialan came to stand in front of him, offering a hand to pull Maze to his feet. Once he was on his feet Maze brushed himself off, oddly aware of all the people looking at him.

"Oh. Oh this is my fault isn't it?" Kira was standing just behind Tymar, expression stricken. Maze couldn't help but smile at the redhead, not able to feel angry. It was his own fault at the end of the day; he knew better than to let outside events interfere during a fight, not even his Padawan. If Tymar had been Sith Maze would have been dead (as opposed to embarrassed) and where would that leave Kira?

Ty glanced back at the girl. "Did you need something Kira?"

"The Council wants to speak to Maze." Kira said, blushing under Tymar's intent gaze. "I think they've...reached a decision about me."

Maze nodded his understanding then cut his gaze over to the Mirialan. "We'll set something up afterward."

Tymar arched a surprised eyebrow. "I think, considering, we can consider the wager void. It wasn't a totally fair fight."

"Most fights aren't." Maze said with a shrug. T7 had rolled over, Maze's boots and shirt towed along behind him, and he began to pull his clothing back on. "And I'm a man of my word."

"Fine." Tymar smiled slightly. "It was a good duel Maze. Next time I'll have to be more prepared."

Few people were so gracious as to win a duel and still sound like they'd lost. Maze laughed then, taking the time to wave at Tymar's companions, started the short trek to the Jedi Council's chambers. In spite of his loss he felt lighter somehow, the tension his nightmare had caused totally drained away, and was ready to face the Council and, if needed, fight for his Padawan.

He hadn't allowed the Emperor to take Kira from him and he wouldn't allow the council to do it either. Even if she had a tendency to be in the wrong place at the absolute worst of times.

0000000000

Jedi Saber Forms/Techniques

_**Form III aka Soresu **_  
>The third great lightsaber discipline was first developed in response to the advancement of blaster technology in the galaxy. As these weapons spread widely into the hands of evil-doers, Jedi had to develop unique means of defending themselves. Form III thus arose from "laserblast" deflection training. Over the centuries it has transcended this origin to become a highly refined expression of non-aggressive Jedi philosophy. Form III maximizes defensive protection in a style characterized by tight, efficient movements that expose minimal target area compared to the relatively open style of some of the other Forms.<br>Obi-Wan Kenobi takes up a dedication to Form III after the death of Qui-Gon Jinn (who favored Form IV), since it was apparent to Kenobi that Jinn's defense was insufficient against the Sith techniques of Darth Maul. True Form III masters are considered invincible

_**Form IV aka Ataru **_  
>Form IV is the most acrobatic Form, heavily emphasizing Jedi abilities to run, jump, and spin in phenomenal ways by using the Force. Masters of Form IV incorporate all of the ways in which the Force helps them go beyond what is physically possible. Their lightsaber combat is astonishing to watch, filled with elaborate moves in the center of which a Jedi may be all but a blur. Yoda, with his deep emphasis on the Force in all things, is a Form IV master as was Qui-Gon Jinn.<p>

_**Form IX aka Shien **_

This variation of Djem-So (Form V) uniquely involves a Jedi holding the lightsaber horizontally. The Jedi points the end of the blade at the opponent; it is swung in a fast arc and executes strong powerful and swift attacks. However, Shien is limited in its mobility and is not the most efficient form to use.

_**Form V aka Djem-So**_

Form V was developed by Jedi who preferred a more offensive angle to lightsaber combat. Djem So utilities strong, powerful techniques, which to a well trained opponent can be quite easily predictable, but the power is hoped to overwhelm the opponent. As opposed to Soresu which often results in long combats, Djem So often has short duels, as the user either overpowers the opponent or is fatigued. Anakin and Luke Skywalker were noted users of Form V.

_**Form X aka Jar'Kai **_

The dual saber Jar'Kai permitted a Jedi to fight with two lightsabers, one in each hand. One of the blades in the wielder's hands was used for attacking while the other one was used for defending, such as parrying, or for more offensive power. Many Jedi train to use one of the single lightsaber forms in the hopes of gaining a basic knowledge of the dual-bladed attack, but very few Jedi ever totally mastered Jar'Kai.

Included the information on Form V for greater clarification on Shien form. I figured that since the Jedi Knight is supposed to be an amazing duelist, able to either go with a single saber or dual wield, that it was proper that Maze be proficient in the three forms that would allow him to tank, do single saber damage, or dual wield. Tymar, on the other hand, being a Mirialan and thus naturally faster and more agile that a human, seemed like a perfect candidate for the more acrobatic Form IV, especially when you factor in certain abilities (Force Speed, for one).

Tymar doesn't use Form IV as a 'Sage', opting for one of the 'Force Forms', probably:

_**Force Affinity**_

Affinity was the ideal form for a Jedi who was required to maintain a steady focus on the Force. It allowed the Jedi to rest in his or her connection in even the fiercest fight, in a manner that would normally be available only in peaceful meditation and away from distractions. This was an endurance form for the Jedi; one could remain guarded while an enemy expended energy and eventually tired. For this reason, it was most effectively used in alternating cycles with other Force forms, with the Jedi recovering strength before launching a counterattack against a weary opponent.


End file.
